


Supernatural Fix-it-Fic (15x20 Rewrite)

by iwritecrossovers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x20, 15x20 rewrite, AKF, Angst with a Happy Ending, Archangel Gabriel (Supernatural), DeanCas - Freeform, Deancas angst, Destiel - Freeform, Destiel Angst, Destiel Fluff, Destiel romance, Emotional, Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On, F/M, Family Fluff, Finale destiel, Fix It, Fix-It, Fix-It-Fic, FixitFic, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay angel, J2, J2M, Jack kline - Freeform, Jared - Freeform, Jared Padalecki - Freeform, Jensen Ackles - Freeform, Love Wins, M/M, Misha Collins - Freeform, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Rewrite, Romantic Fluff, SPN - Freeform, SPNFamily - Freeform, Samleen, Supernatural - Freeform, Supernatural alternate ending, Team Free Will, They Silenced You, Winchesters - Freeform, carry on, cas, castiel - Freeform, dean saves cas, deancas fluff, deancas romance, finale deancas, fixed spn finale, heterosexual car, jack Kline god, jensen - Freeform, misha - Freeform, real spn finale, s15e20 Carry On, spn 15x20, spn 15x20 fanfic, spn 15x20 fic, spn ending, spn finale, spn finale fanfic, supernatural 15x20, supernatural family, supernatural fanfic - Freeform, the ending they deserve, this will hurt but the good kind of hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27662407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwritecrossovers/pseuds/iwritecrossovers
Summary: This is it, folks. The ending that the SPN cast, characters, and fandom deserved. My interpretation of what should've gone down in the final episode. Hopefully this helps everyone say goodbye to the characters that they've grown with and loved for 15 years now. NOTE: I did keep some details from the original episode but completely changed the plot--don't give up on it when you see that they're still hunting those vamps in Canton. I promise y'all they get a good ending).
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 36
Kudos: 287
Collections: Destiel, Supernatural, Supernatural Finale Fix Its, Supernatural Finale Fix-Its, The Real Supernatural Finale





	1. PART 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the #spnfamily](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the+%23spnfamily).



\---PART ONE---

“Dead man’s blood… machete...wha--” Sam said, pausing his search through their duffel to extract a flat, spiky metal disk. “Dean, what are these?”

Dean shoved a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth, and then chomped on a piece of toast. “Shmhmm,” Dean said around his food.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Ts’ a shuriken,” Dean said once he’d swallowed some of his food.

“A throwing star?” Sam said, raising both his eyebrows.

“A ninja star.”

“Right,” Sam said skeptically. “And when, exactly, are you planning to use these?”

Dean tossed his plate on top of the already towering stack of dirty dishes in the sink. “Well, if this does turn out to be a vamp nest, then they might come in handy with the whole--” Dean drew his finger across his throat and made a slicing noise, “--part.”

Shaking his head, Sam returned the throwing stars to their place in the bag, and zipped it up before slinging it over his shoulder. “Ready to go?” he asked Dean, who grabbed his keys from their place on the table.

“Let's get this show on the road,” Dean replied, and took the bunker stairs two at a time.

__________

A few hours later, Sam’s phone buzzed, and Eileen’s name flashed across the screen.

 _Vamp nest in Canton?_ Her message read, _I’m not too far out--I’ll meet you there._

Sam was quick to reply. _No, stay where you are. We’ve got it._

_Don’t worry about it. I’m only an hour away. It’ll be better if I keep an eye on things at least until you arrive._

Sam typed his reply as fast as his thumbs would let him. _You shouldn’t go alone. It’s too dangerous. Just wait until Dean and I get there before looking into anything, ok?_

Eileen’s text bubble popped up and vanished a few times before she finally sent her response. _Ok._

Sam slid his cellphone back into his pocket, and glanced over at Dean. His face was set, his shoulders tense, and though rock music blared from the stereo system, Dean’s thoughts seemed to be elsewhere.

“Hey, you okay?” Sam asked him.

“Hm?” Dean said, dragging his eyes away from the road to look his little brother in the eye.

“I asked if you were okay.”

“I’m peachy. Why?” Dean replied. It was obvious that he was working to hide whatever was going on in his head behind a mask of cool indifference, but Sam was having none of it.

“You just seem a little… out of it.” Sam observed, and Dean scoffed. They were both quiet for a moment while Sam thought of a way to broach the subject.

“It’s okay, you know, if you miss him,” Sam said gently.

“Miss who?” Dean said, but his facade cracked when the deadness shone momentarily in his eyes.

“You know who,” Sam said softly, as though worried he might startle his brother. “Cas meant a lot to me, too, Dean. It’s alright to--”

“Don’t. Just--don’t. Please, Sammy,” Dean cut Sam off, his voice slightly hoarse. Sam nodded, turning his eyes back to the dark road ahead. They’d been driving for six hours now, and were only halfway to Canton. Dean cranked up the volume on the music so it was impossible to hear anything else, or to sleep, but Sam wasn’t about to complain.

After another few minutes of listening to Metallica at an ear-splitting volume, the song changed, and a more mellow track began playing. The soft guitar and smooth voice of the singer soon had Sam’s eyelids drooping, and before long, Sam was fast asleep.  
__________

Sam woke up a few hours later to the feeling of his phone vibrating over and over again in his pocket. He peeked at the screen, and saw that Eileen was FaceTiming

him. Swiping to answer the call, Sam lifted the phone in front of his face as he sat up in his seat.

“Hey, Eileen,” Sam croaked, then cleared his throat to rid the sleepiness from his voice. “Hang tight for only a few more hours, we’re almost there--”

“Sam,” Eileen said carefully, looking slightly stricken. “Someone else just died.”

Sam was silent for a moment, his jaw clenched as he mulled the thought over in his head: _Someone else is dead because of me. Because I didn’t get there in time._

He didn’t have to glance over at Dean to know that his brother wore the same deadpan expression.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, Eileen. I’m here.”

There were a few more seconds of silence on Eileen’s end before she spoke. “It’s not your fault, Sam. You can’t save everyone.”  
Sam was shaking his head. “It’s fine. I mean, I’m fine.” He cleared his throat again, and shoved the new wave of guilt aside to deal with some other time. Right now, Sam needed to focus.

“Anything else? I know you probably haven’t done much since you’re just staying in the motel room, but…”

“Well, actually,” Eileen began, her voice timid. “I stopped by the crime scene. Got a good look at the bodies. And--”

“You did what?” Sam said, fear suddenly overtaking his whole body. “Eileen, I told you to wait until we got there! This job is too big for anyone to handle alone.”

“I know, but it couldn’t be helped. The bodies would’ve been transported by the time you got there.”

“Alright, okay,” Sam said, running his hand through his hair. “Just--don’t do anything else until Dean and I get there, please. We’re only about an hour out. If you really can’t help it, then see if you can find a news trail. Maybe they’ve hit other cities in the area as well. Call me if you--”

“Sam?” Eileen said, her brows furrowed. “The connection’s breaking up, I can’t read your lips.”

“Oh--uh, sorry, my service is probably spotty. I’ll text you.”

“Wait,” she said, and looked off to the side. There was a sudden thumping sound from Eileen’s end, which was followed by a splintering crash. Eileen gasped, and her dark eyes went wide.

“Eileen? What’s going on?” Sam asked, but Eileen wasn’t looking at him. The view changed as Eileen dropped her phone on the floor, and Sam watched in horror as she drew her knife and set her feet into a fighting stance. Sam saw a gloved hand grab at her wrist, and Eileen swung her knife down to attack.

The fight was over in no time. Not because Eileen wasn’t a competent fighter, but because there were four of them, and only one of her. One of them knocked the blade from her hand, and then each of the others grabbed her by a limb. Eileen screamed and writhed, but ultimately couldn’t do anything to stop her captors as they dragged her away.

“ _Eileen!”_ Sam screamed into the phone, but it made no difference. Eileen was gone.

“Aaaaaaagghhh!” Sam roared, punching the dashboard with the side of his fist.

“Sam! Sam, stop! Sa--hey! We’ll get her back, alright? It’s gonna be alright,” Dean said, squeezing Sam’s shoulder hard with his free hand. Sam propped his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands.

“Dean… I can’t,” he said, his voice cracking. “I just--I just got her back. I c-can’t lose her again.”

“Sammy, hey,” Dean said, a hint of alarm on his face after witnessing Sam’s outburst. He gripped Sam’s shoulder even harder. “It’s all gonna be alright. We’re gonna get her back, man, I promise. It’s gonna be okay.” Dean stomped on the gas, and the car went so fast they might as well have flown over the asphalt. Sam allowed himself a couple minutes of weakness, a few minutes of fear, before pulling himself together again. He’d stuff that terror down into the same shadowy corner of his mind where he stores the rest of his guilt and pain, for now. And he’d deal with all of it, eventually. Someday.

The Winchesters had never driven faster. They arrived at the motel that Eileen had been staying at within the hour, and when they burst into her room, Dean swore.

The place was a mess: papers, books, and furniture strewn all over the place. The chair was broken, and dusty footprints patterned the floor. Sam knelt down to examine one, and had to fight off a wave of nausea as he eyed a couple drops of blood mixed in with the shoeprint.

“Alright,” Sam said, fighting to remain composed and clear-headed. “Let’s take a look around. There’s got to be something here that can tell us where they went.” Where they took her.

Dean started going through the mess on the floor, while Sam leafed through the untouched pile of notes that had been left on the table. There was the printed article on the latest death, along with a couple of other, similar news pieces, and a picture of what looked to be the face of an evil, grinning clown. Under all of that was a copy of the official police report from the latest murders, which Eileen had somehow managed to get her hands on.

“Dean, look at this,” Sam said, scanning the words. “The victims--the ones Eileen called to tell us about? It was a family of four. A mom and a dad, and their two young children.” Dean continued picking through the piles of books, papers, and splinters that lied on the floor as Sam began reading.

“Parents were killed… Dad was drained of all the blood in his body, and the mom’s tongue was ripped out,” Sam finished, his lip curling in disgust.

“Yeah--sounds like vamps alright. What about the kids?”

“Gone,” Sam answered. “Looks like the vampires took them.”

“Took the kids--to feed on them?” Dean asked, anger flaring in his eyes.

“Maybe. Check this out, too.” Sam handed the clown picture down to his brother so Dean could have a better look.

“Evil creepy clown vampires?” Dean suggested, raising his eyebrows. Sam shrugged, and then went back to paging through the papers on the desk.

“Hey,” Dean said suddenly, and Sam looked up. Dean had a mangled road map fanned out on the floor in front of him. Sam strode over, and his brother pointed to a marked spot with a drawn circle around it. “I think we have a location,” he said, peeling off a sticky note from the map. It read:

_Abandoned barn off of 62 E. Passed on the way into town--check out w/ S &D._

Sam swallowed hard. “You think that’s where the nest is?”

“Looks like that’s what Eileen thought,” Dean said, pushing himself off the floor.

“Then let’s check it out.”

__________

“I think Eileen was right about this place,” Sam said from his spot behind the trees, just a few yards away from the barn. From the road, the shelter looked to be nothing more than a rotted, old, abandoned shack. From this close, however, the lights and the shadows that moved within the old barn were pretty telling of its inhabitants.

“You think?” Dean snorted, adjusting his grip on his machete.

After a moment, the shadows stopped moving, and then vanished entirely. Sam and Dean exchanged a quick nod, and then began to creep toward the ramshackle barn as quietly as their boots would let them.

Sam slid the door open a fraction of an inch, and then peered inside. The lighting was low, but there was no mistaking that the coast was clear. Sam mouthed the words all clear over his shoulder to Dean, and then slid open the barn door the rest of the way. But the moment they both stepped inside, Sam could tell that something was wrong.

The boys snapped their heads around when a muffled whine sounded from somewhere further into the barn, and then together, they trekked in deeper. The whine sounded again, and this time, they could tell that it was coming from behind a door on the right wall. They stalked towards it slowly, machetes at the ready. The muffled whimper kept sounding, even as they reached the door, and Dean gripped the door handle as they prepared to face whatever might be behind it.

 _Three,_ Dean mouthed silently to Sam. _Two, one._

He ripped open the door, only to find three people standing with their backs pressed against the far wall, covered in dirt and blood. Two small boys, both of whom were crying, and… Eileen.

“Sam!” Eileen exclaimed, and her face broke out into a grin. Sam was already barreling toward her, and didn’t care that he had an audience as he lifted Eileen into his arms and kissed her.

“Thank God,” Sam whispered as he set her down again, and ran his thumbs over her cheeks. “Thank God you’re okay.”

“I’m alright, Sam. But we have to get out of here before--”

“Sam,” Dean said suddenly with an edge to his voice. When Sam turned around to see what was wrong, he started. They were surrounded by four large figures, all of whom were wearing clown masks--and holding knives.

“Eileen,” Sam said, his eyes never leaving the creatures. “Grab the kids and get them to safety.”  
Sam knew that Eileen understood what he had said, but she made no move to leave.

“Machete, Sam,” Eileen said, and Sam nearly choked on dread as he drew his extra blade and handed it to Eileen. She then turned to the kids, placing a hand on their shoulders.

“Run,” she told them. They didn’t need to be told twice. Once the kids had gone, the three of them and their four adversaries stood stock still for a few moments longer, crouched in fighting stances, as though they were about to pounce on them--but they didn’t. Dean furrowed his brows in confusion, glancing sidelong at Sam and Eileen. He then turned his eyes to the figure opposite him, and lifted an eyebrow.

“So, you gonna kill us, or…?”

That must’ve been their cue, because without any further hesitation, the vampires launched themselves on Eileen and the Winchesters. Eileen emitted a furious war cry and swung at the two vampires nearest to her, leaving the other two bloodsuckers to Sam and Dean.

The three of them began fighting, swinging their blades at their opponents’ arms and torsos, trying to weaken them in any way that they could, but mostly aiming for their necks. Eileen took down one of her adversaries right away, slicing brutally through his neck and spraying blood on her jeans. Unfortunately for her, the death of the one vampire only amplified the rage of the other, who wasted no time in launching himself at Eileen to avenge his friend.

Sam and Dean traded small cuts and slices with their opponents, which hurt them, but didn’t do much in the way of weakening the opposition. A few minutes into the attack, both of the vampires managed to get in good hits on both of the boys, causing Dean to lose his footing as he grunted out in pain.

“ _Dean!_ ” Sam roared, though he was clutching a wound of his own as well, trying to stop the blood that gushed from his bicep. Dean’s opponent, seeing the opportunity, closed in and double-teamed Sam, whose strength was slowly seeping from him. The loss of blood finally catching up to him, Sam lost his footing and crumpled onto the floor, the two vampires raising their knives above their heads to strike.

“Sam! No!” Dean bellowed, and launched himself onto one of the vampires. Dean knocked the knife out of his hand, grabbed him by the shoulders, and drove him backwards into a wooden beam behind them--a wooden beam that had a large, sharp metal rod sticking out of it, that pierced straight through the vampire’s back and exited through his stomach. Having him pinned there, Dean wasted no time in swinging his weapon and separating the monster’s head from his shoulders. Blood splattered over the beam, and onto Dean’s front.

Dean turned back around just in time to see Sam regain his footing, slice the vampire’s left hand off, and then, once again, fall back down. Dean lurched forward to help, but Eileen already beat him to it. She swung once, and she swung hard, and that was all it took for the vampire’s head to go flying and hit the wall with a sickening crunch.

“Your arm,” Eileen murmured as she crouched to examine Sam’s wound. She lifted herself back up, and looked to Dean.

“Dean, we have to get him--”

“ _Eileen!”_ Dean yelled, watching in horror as the last vampire crept up on her from behind, but it was too late--the knife was already stuck in Eileen’s shoulder. She screamed, and crumpled to the ground.

“No!” Sam bellowed, and managed to stand up one final time, running Eileen’s fallen blade through the monster’s neck, before collapsing into unconsciousness. Dean, the only one still standing, was the one to finish the job; the blood sprayed.

Eileen was lying awkwardly on the ground, and her jacked was soaked a dark crimson around where the knife protruded from her shoulder. Dean went to her first.

Her breathing was labored, and her eyes were glazed with pain. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911.

Dean inhaled sharply while the phone rang, and lowered his head so that he was directly in Eileen’s line of sight. “You’re gonna be alright,” he said, though he wasn’t sure she was paying attention. The line picked up right as he stood up and went to kneel beside his brother.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” The operator said evenly.

“My brother--” Dean started, but his voice was so scratchy that he had to clear his throat and try again. “My brother and my friend--they’re dying. Please,” Dean pleaded as he felt for Sam's pulse. He exhaled audibly when he found it there, still hammering despite the fact that Sam was pale and cold as a ghost.

“What is your location, sir?” the operator asked. Dean told her about the barn, and gave her details about Sam and Eileen’s condition.

“An ambulance is on the way. If you could please stay on the line until help arrives--” Dean hung up the phone, and slung off his jacket. He balled it up and pressed it to the wound on Sam’s arm to try and staunch the bleeding. He stayed that way for several minutes, listening to Eileen’s labored breathing, until he could hear sirens approaching in the distance.

Some part of Sam’s brain must have registered the noise, because he began to stir, his eyelids fluttering. Dean inhaled sharply.

“Sammy?” he gasped, and smiled in relief as Sam’s eyes opened and met his. “Hey--relax,” Dean said, holding Sam’s head still as he looked around.

“Eileen,” Sam croaked, and his eyes shuttered again.

Dean swallowed hard. “It’s gonna be alright, Sammy. It’s gonna be okay. It always is, isn’t it? We always pull through. It’s gonna be okay.” Dean was no longer sure if he was talking more to himself or to Sam, and decided he didn’t care as the tears welled in his eyes. He couldn’t lose Sam, not after everything that they’d been through. After all those years fighting and surviving, Dean was unable to picture a life without Sam, a life where their only prize for defeating all the evil in the world, Satan, and then even Chuck himself is a couple happy weeks of freedom together as a family before being torn apart forever. The sirens arrived, and Dean closed his own eyes and lowered his forehead to Sam’s as the EMTs burst through the barn door.

__________

Sam immediately regretted waking up once he felt the skull-splitting headache that pounded through his head. He was in a hospital room, under the blankets of a hospital bed--and there was Dean, sleeping soundly on the chair by the door, his legs stretched out and his head tilted back against the wall. Dean’s mouth was open, and he was snoring softly. Despite all his aches and pains, despite everything that has already happened and everything that could, Sam smiled, because at least Dean was still alive. But as the memories of the night before came flooding back, Sam began to panic.

“Eileen,” he gasped, causing Dean to stir. He tried to sit up, but blackness crept in around the edges of his vision, so he grunted in pain and lowered his head back down onto the pillow again.

“Whoa, easy there,” Dean said sleepily, jumping up from his chair to help. He adjusted the pillow so that it was more comfortable, and waited patiently while Sam fought back against the pull of unconsciousness.

“Where’s Eileen?” Sam croaked, his hand gripping Dean’s jacket.

“She’s alive, Sam. She’s okay. I saw her a little while ago. She’s gonna be just fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dean assured him, smiling worriedly down at little brother. “You really gave me a scare back there, Sammy, going all comatose on me like that.” Dean patted Sam’s good arm, and then stood back up. Sam didn’t miss the shaken look in Dean’s eyes.

“I’m okay, Dean,” Sam reassured him softly.

Dean nodded. “I know. I just--I mean, they had to give you a transfusion, and Eileen went into surgery, and I thought you were dead, Sammy, and I--”

“We’re okay Dean. I’m alive. Eileen’s alive.”

“No, I know that, I just…” Tears shone in Dean’s eyes, and Sam had to fight to keep the emotion out of his face. Dean took a shaky breath, and exhaled slowly before continuing.

“After...after Cas, you know, I just wouldn’t be able to stand to lose you, too, man.” Dean said, rubbing his eyes with his fingers.

Sam nodded vigorously. He understood; he really did. When he thought that Eileen might have died, Sam stopped breathing. He understood that if he did ever lose Eileen, there was a good chance that he might lose himself, too. And he felt that after all that they’ve sacrificed for the greater good, they deserved to at least keep what little family they have left. Sam swallowed, preparing himself for the conversation he knew he needed to have with his big brother.

“Dean,” Sam said. “We need to talk.”

__________

A couple days later, Dean drove the three of them back to the bunker. They were all strangely quiet. While Sam and Eileen had recovered in the hospital, Dean had gone back to ensure that the two little boys that they’d saved had been found and returned to their family. He’d then gone on a long drive to give himself some time and space to think over what Sam had told him upon waking.

 _I can’t anymore, Dean,_ Sam had said to him. _After everything we’ve been through, I want to spend my life with the family that we have left. I can’t, I won’t risk that again._

Dean thought about the family that they did have left. After Jack became God, he’d restored many of the people that Chuck had taken away from them: Bobby, Donna, Charlie, Eileen… Dean knew that he and Sam more than deserved to go into a quiet, peaceful retirement. It was a tempting idea, and Dean couldn’t help but entertain it. What would he do, if he gave up hunting? How would he spend the rest of his time on earth?

And yet, no matter how many times he tried to imagine himself moving on from his life as a hunter… he couldn’t picture a damn thing. He knew that Sam had his own life, and that he wanted to see how things would work out between him and Eileen. But Dean… Dean didn’t have anything like that. There wasn’t a person alive who he could imagine himself growing old beside.

Not a single living soul.

But regardless of what retirement meant for him, he knew that Sam deserved to be happy, and Dean sure as hell wasn’t going to stand in the way of that. So he turned Baby around and drove back to the hospital to help his brother and Eileen get back on their feet, and he knew that when the time came for them to part ways, Dean wouldn’t stand in the way.

The ride was silent. Not because it was awkward, but because all three of them were exhausted. So exhausted, in fact, that Dean had even forgotten to turn on the music. Instead, he spent the ride watching the road, ignoring the warm exchange of glances between Sam and Eileen, and most of all, thinking about everything--about life, about the future, and--about Cas.

Always about Cas.

As much as he tried not to think about it, he could hardly think of anything else. Castiel meant more to him than anyone else in the world, aside from his brother. And that idiot, that coward waited to say what he said until there wasn’t time for Dean to say it back. If he was being honest, Dean didn’t really know how he felt about Cas’ death, other than that it hurt like a bitch. And the tangled web of emotions inside of him, the one that lined his thoughts day and night--well, Dean’s never been too great at the whole ‘feelings’ thing, anyway. Easier to just shut it out as best as he can, to shove it all down somewhere until the pain dulls--and it always dulls, eventually.

Although, as far as this kind of thing normally goes for Dean, Cas’ death seems to have set a track record. It’s been weeks, and the fog in Dean’s brain still hasn’t lifted.

He knew that if Cas were still alive today, it would be easier for him to give up hunting and let Sammy go. Dean would have something to look forward to because he’d get to go on alongside his best friend. His stupid, self-sacrificing, over-caring, warmhearted angel.

Sometimes, to make himself feel better, he would lie in bed, close his eyes, and pretend that he was the one who died, and Cas was the one to live. Dean knew that it was stupid, but even just imagining that Cas got to live the life he deserved made him feel a little better. Dean knew that if he could trade places with him, he would.

Dean tried to imagine what Cas would do if Dean had been the one to die instead of him. Billie was there to kill Dean, after all--not Cas. Cas would probably mourn for a couple of weeks, maybe go into self-destruct mode to try and kill whatever killed Dean--but ultimately he’d move on. Probably. Get a job, like he did that one time at the gas station. Find a partner, settle down… but only after trying everything that he can think of to bring Dean back, of course.

_Bring Dean back._

Dean almost swerved the car off the road, and Sam gripped the roof and dash to keep from flying out of his seat.

“What was that?” he asked, looking confused and slightly worried.

“Nothing,” Dean replied shakily, but all the blood had drained from his face. How had he not thought of that before?

Cas had told him before that there was no coming back from the Empty. It wasn’t like Heaven or Hell--it was older than anything else in existence, even older than existence itself.

But Cas did come back once before. And now that they had God on their side, now that they were free to decide their own destinies, maybe they could do it again. Things could be different. And even if they weren’t, Dean could try anyway. He would try. He would do everything he could to save Cas just like Cas saved him. He owed him that much. And if he did somehow manage to find Cas and bring him back to life, he’d say it back. Those three words that Cas had said to him, that one phrase that had haunted him since that moment Cas uttered it--he’d say it back. He would.

“So you’re really giving up hunting, huh?” Dean said Sam, a detectable note of hope in his voice.

“I meant what I said back at the hospital,” Sam replied, turning to face his brother. “What are you gonna do? You’re not going to keep hunting, are you?”

Dean set his eyes back on the road ahead with a fresh wave of determination.

“Eventually,” he said casually, turning on the radio. “Carry on Wayward Son” blared from the system, and Dean cranked it up to full volume. “But first, I’ve got one last case to do."


	2. PART 2

PART TWO

“You want anything from the store?” Sam called over his shoulder as he and Eileen pulled on their jackets. Dean turned from his place at the table, where he sat in front of a large pile of ancient texts and scrolls.

“Some beer,” he answered, and Sam pulled a small paper from his pocket and held it up for Dean to see.

“Already on the list,” Sam said. Dean nodded and went back to the wide, dusty volume laid out in front of him. Sam and Eileen went up the stairs and made to leave, but Dean called up to them before they could shut the door.

“Sammy, wait!” he said, standing up. Sam poked his head back through the door frame.

“What?” he said.

“Don’t forget the--”

“Pie,” Sam finished for him, an amused smile curling his lips. “I won’t.”

“Yeah, that’s what you said last time,” Dean grumbled, sitting back down in his chair. Dean could hear his brother chuckling to himself as his head disappeared again behind the door and the entrance to the bunker sealed itself shut.

Dean rubbed his eyes to try and rid the blurriness from his vision as he made an attempt to recenter his focus around the words on the page open in front of him. Though most of the words were in Latin, there was just enough English for Dean to understand what he was reading about. The title of the section read: 

_ Summoning Ritual: Celestial Beings. _

Under that were paragraphs explaining the ingredients needed for the ritual, which was followed by a hand-written Latin incantation.

Dean scanned the page, but the ritual cited in the tome said just as much about whether it would work on a  _ dead _ angel as all of the other books he’d already flipped through, which was, unfortunately, absolutely nothing.

Dean groaned in frustration and slammed the book shut. He stood and stretched his back, took a quick slurp from his now cold cup of coffee, and tilted his face up to the ceiling. Then, for the fourteenth time that week, Dean began to pray.

“Jack,” he began, not sure exactly what he was going to say this time. “Jack, if you’re up there, I really need your help, man. Look…” Dean said, taking a breath. There wasn’t much he hadn’t already tried to get Jack to come down, but that didn’t mean that he was going to stop trying. Though he hated to admit it, he was fresh out of options.

“Jack, buddy. I need your help. I know that you’re… you’re like God now and everything, but… look, man, I need your help getting Cas back,” Dean said, squeezing his eyes shut and spreading his arms. 

“He’s--I know I haven’t always been the nicest to you in the past, but I thought we got past all that. And I’m not saying that you should do it for me, but Cas, he’s--he loved you. A lot. So do if you do it for anyone, do it for--”

“Dean.”

Dean whirled around and found himself face to face with the kid he was so sure he’d seen the last of.

“Jack!” Dean cried, his face breaking into a wide grin. He lifted his arms to embrace him, but stopped short, somehow finding the idea of hugging God to be weird. Instead, he settled for gripping Jack by the arms, and then giving him a solid pat on the shoulder.

“Look at you,” Dean said, feeling a warm, proud feeling rise inside of him. “You’re all...godly now. Well, that makes sense, you being God and all, but…” Dean trailed off, and then cleared his throat. “You look good, kid. We miss having you around.”

“It’s good to see you too, Dean,” Jack said with a smile. They stood there for a minute until an awkward, yet not entirely uncomfortable silence settled between them. Dean cleared his throat again.

“So…” Dean began, raising his eyebrows. “I take it you’ve been busy up in… ah, Heaven?”

“I have. But you didn’t ask me here to make small talk about Heaven.”

“No, I didn’t,” Dean agreed. “But after all those unanswered prayers, I didn’t think you’d come.” Dean huffed a laugh. “I didn’t know the Almighty makes house calls.”

“I don’t,” Jack clarified, his brows creasing. “But I know what you will ask of me, Dean. I can’t do it.”

Dean’s heart fell, but he refused to let the disappointment show on his face. “You can’t bring him back?”

Jack shook his head. “The Empty is beyond even my reach. It’s a place--an energy--that is entirely its own.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, absorbing the words like a blow to the stomach. Jack stepped forward and placed a hand on Dean’s arm.

“I can’t bring Castiel back,” Jack went on, “but you can.”

Dean’s eyes snapped open. “Wha--?”

“There is a way, but it’s dangerous. It will require outside help, and for you to literally,  _ literally  _ change the very essence of your being--”

“I don’t care,” Dean interrupted. “Tell me.”

“You have to understand, Dean,” Jack went on, his blue eyes intense. “If you fail, then you will be lost, too.”

Dean swallowed. His own death was a possibility that he’d already thought of, and a possibility that he’d already contemplated and come to accept. “Tell me.”

“Well, it’s simple: in order to get Castiel out of the Empty, you’ll have to go there yourself,” Jack reasoned.

Dean drew his brows together. “But…only angels and demons can go to the Empty,” he said slowly. 

“Correct,” Jack explained. “So you’ll have to become one.”

Dean started. “Become--an  _ angel?” _

“Or a demon,” Jack offered.

“So, what? You--you want me to go back and go through the whole Mark of Cain thing again?” Dean asked, feeling hollow.

But Jack shook his head. “No, it would be easier for you to temporarily become an angel than turn yourself into a demon.”

Dean tried not to let his relief be too obvious. “So what do I do?”

“Well, assuming that you’re  _ not  _ up for being possessed by anyone--”

“Absolutely not.”

“--then you’re best off borrowing grace from an Archangel.”

Dean frowned. “An archangel? Why an archangel?”

Jack smiled, though it looked a little like a grimace. “Because their grace is more powerful, to put it simply. A regular angel wouldn’t be able to go to the Empty and come back--they wouldn’t have the strength. But an Archangel just might be able to make the trip.”

Dean huffed. “ _ Might _ be able to make the trip. How reassuring.”

“So, your first step would be to find an Archangel who would be willing to let you borrow their grace,” Jack told him.

“Sounds likely. What next?”

“Then,” Jack continued, “you die.”

Dean paled again, but his mind was already made up. It wouldn’t matter if his only option was to take Cas’ place in the Empty--he was bringing that angel home. 

“And then?” Dean said, his voice tight.

“Well, here’s how it works,” Jack went on, crossing his arms and beginning to pace. “When you borrow an Archangels’ grace, you technically become an Archangel yourself, because their grace lives inside of you, and it is now yours to command. But because your human soul is still the one behind the wheel--the one calling the shots--it will still be with you when you die. And because a  _ human  _ soul doesn’t belong in the Empty, it’ll try to escape.”

“Escape? How?”

“By stretching into a tether and pulling you back into your body.”

“‘Course it does,” Dean said sarcastically, and shook his head. “So what you're saying is…I get there, grab Cas, and then my soul will guide the both of us back to life?”

“Yes, but it’s more complicated than that,” Jack went on, turning back to face Dean. “Your human soul won’t just tether you back to your body, it will  _ pull  _ you back there. It’s impossible for a human soul to stay in the Empty.”

“But that’s what the angel mojo is for,” Dean said, sitting back down at the table.

“Right, but that’s also the other half of the problem,” Jack elaborated, his expression serious. “The Archangel grace won’t want to leave.”

Dean cocked his head to the side, still not understanding. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Jack said delicately, “that if you don’t get Cas and get out of there as fast as you can, your soul and the Archangel grace will essentially pull you apart. And then you’ll shatter, and cease to exist.”

Dean was quiet for a moment, replaying the words  _ cease to exist  _ over and over again in his mind before he finally cleared his throat. “Sounds lovely.”

“I warned you that it’d be dangerous,” Jack said gently.

“Well, you really weren’t kidding, were you?” Dean said, laughing dryly. “Alright, so step one is to lasso ourselves an Archangel.” Dean paused for a moment, thinking, and then looked back up at Jack.

“Are there even any Archangels left alive?” he asked Jack.

Jack bit his lip. “I think I know who can help us.”

__________

“Well, twist my neck and call me a pretzel,” the Archangel said after Jack had zapped the two of them back into the bunker and let go of the scruff of his neck. “I’ll be damned.”

“Long time no see, Gabriel,” Dean said, not sure whether the corners of his mouth were stretching into a smile or a grimace. 

Dusting himself off, Gabriel turned about to get a better look at the bunker. “I like what you’ve done with the place, except… baby brother’s not here. He’s not pushing up daisies, now, is he?”

“No, Sam’s still kicking,” Dean said, frowning slightly as Gabriel picked up a framed picture of the boys. “Uh, look, Gabriel. We--”

“How’d you know I was alive?” Gabriel asked suddenly, turning back to the two of them. He looked from Sam to Jack, and then slowly nodded his head.

“Right. Forgot that little man here is now the Big Man. How’s ruling the universe going for you, nephew?” Gabriel said it with a smile, but his eyes were cold.

“We didn’t bring you here to catch up, Gabriel,” Jack said calmly. “Dean wanted to ask you--”

“How I’d feel about lending my Heavenly Grace to Mr. Closet Case here so he can bring his winged little boyfriend back to life?” Gabriel asked, his eyebrows raised. Dean snapped his head up, but before he could reply, Gabriel went on. “Yeah, that’s not likely.”

“I’ll grant you one wish,” Jack proclaimed, stepping forward. “Whatever you want--as long as it's within reason.”

Gabriel opened his mouth, but then paused. His eyes flicked from Jack to Dean and back to Jack again, and then finally he said, “Anything I want?”

“Within reason,” Dean reminded him, crossing his arms and leaning back against the banister. Gabriel took another moment to think it over, and then finally agreed. “Alright. I want Chuck--dead.”

Dean started. Of all things that Gabriel could’ve asked for, that was the last request he’d thought he’d make.

“Are you sure?” Dean asked carefully, furrowing his brows. “No candy… or pornstars--?”

“Oh no, I want pornstars, too. And an estate, with a champagne fountain. And one of those portable cotton candy machines--”

“Hey, hey, slow your horses, pal. He said he’d grant  _ one  _ wish, alright?”

Gabriel turned his gaze back on Dean. “Do you want your pet angel back or not?”

“It’s fine, Dean,” Jack said, before asking Gabriel if there was anything else.

“Like I said,” Gabriel repeated, “I want Chuck dead. And I want to be the one to do it. Bring me Chuck, and I’ll let you borrow my angel juice for a day. Deal?”

Dean looked to Jack, who nodded in confirmation. “Let’s do this,” Dean said.

__________

“Stand facing each other,” Jack instructed, guiding Dean by the arm so that he was opposite the Archangel. “Just like that.”

“How is this gonna work again?” Dean asked skeptically, frowning down at Gabriel.

Jack shook his head. “It might feel a little strange, but it will be essentially painless. Just leave it to me.”

Giving up, Dean loosed a breath and studied the pentagram that lined the dungeon floor. Jack had explained that in order for Cas to have the best chance of making it back alongside Dean, they would have to go back to the spot where he had died in the first place. Although it had been a few weeks, this was the first time that Dean had been inside the dungeon since Cas had sacrificed himself. And even though he was comforted by the knowledge that he was only back now to retrieve Cas back from death, the blank walls, stark lighting, and the memories that replayed themselves inside his head made it hard for Dean to stand still.

“Stop moving, Dean,” Jack said as he closed his eyes and placed a hand on both of their shoulders. Gabriel shut his eyes as well, but Dean wanted to see what Jack was going to do. 

At first, there was nothing but the ringing in his ears. But then the lights started to flicker, and Gabriel began to faintly glow. After another moment, the faint glow became focused in his chest, as though he had a lightbulb where his heart should’ve been. The ringing in Dean’s ears intensified until Dean realized that the sound was coming from  _ inside  _ of Gabriel. Dean, beginning to second guess his decisions, took a half step backwards.

“No!” Jack commanded, tightening his grip on Dean’s shoulder. “Don’t move.”

Dean, to his credit, immediately froze in place. The ringing became louder and the light became brighter until Gabriel’s head snapped back and the entire room started to quake. 

Somewhere far away, the door to the bunker opened and slammed shut.

There was light pouring out of Gabriel’s eyes, nose, and mouth, though nobody stopped the ritual. Finally, the orb of light inside Gabriel’s chest began to rise in his chest, up his throat, and finally, out of his mouth. It was white and gold and yellow, and Dean thought it looked like liquid fire. He was sure that if he were to reach out and touch it, it would burn his fingers.

But strangely enough, when the substance approached Dean, he didn’t shy away from it. Instead, as if acting on some sort of base instinct, Dean opened his own mouth. And as the fire entered his body and filled his head, Dean was momentarily blinded by light. 

A million miles away, someone was screaming his name. 

Jack had been right. It  _ did  _ feel strange, almost as if someone was tickling his insides with a feather. But it didn’t feel bad. It didn’t hurt him. The warm, sensitive feeling stopped and settled inside his core, as if making itself comfortable. Dean smiled as his vision returned to him.

_ “Dean!”  _ someone screamed, and his eyes shot open, the glow flaring one final time before extinguishing completely. Dean, now coming down from the high of the Archangel grace, turned just in time to see his little brother’s horrified face gawking at him from the hallway.

Sam and Eileen stood motionless outside the door, their eyes wide as saucers. The three of them gaped at each other for a moment, and then Sam started towards him.

Dean turned back to Jack, a pleading look in his wide, green eyes. 

“Do it  _ now,”  _ Gabriel said to Jack, who already had the angel blade gripped tight in his fist. In a single, graceful motion, Jack reared his arm back and plunged the blade deep into Dean’s heart, right where he had just felt the Archangel grace settle within him only seconds before.

_ “No!”  _ Sam screamed, but Dean could barely hear him above the sensation that overtook his body.

Dean was burning. He had been engulfed in a white-hot flame that had started with his heart, and then had spread all the way to the edges of his body within a fraction of a second. Sam was still running toward him, and Dean was falling, but those were inconsequential details in comparison to searing of his chest, the scorching of his limbs. The white fire--or was that light?--smothered him, absorbed him, disintegrated him, and once again, the entire world went white. Dean did not feel the impact when he hit the floor, nor did he hear it when Sam screamed his name over and over again in his ear. To put it simply, Dean no longer felt anything at all.

Because he was gone. He was really gone.

Dean was dead.

And yet, he was still awake.

Dean was still aware of the fact that he was still himself, that he still existed, that he was no longer inside of his body. He knew that he was somewhere else, somewhere apart from what was physical, where his being had been stripped down to its bare essence, and that warm, fiery white light that had settled inside himself just a few minutes before. Those were the few things that Dean was still able to comprehend, that he was still able to consciously distinguish.

Because everything else, everything outside of his being, outside of what little of himself he still had to hold onto, was Nothing.

Dean had reached the Empty.

PART 3 (FINAL PART) COMING SOON


	3. PART 3

PART 3

The silence pulsed in his ears and the darkness pressed in around him. After regaining his footing, Dean took a breath and flexed his hands in front of his eyes only to find that he could see right through them. They were transparent, just like the rest of him.

A ghost, he realized. That was what he was--a spirit. A spirit that held inside of it the grace of an Archangel.

Jack really hadn’t been kidding, Dean realized. He had already noticed the growing tension between his soul and the grace, which so far felt like no more than a subtle throbbing inside his chest. But Dean didn’t stop to think about it--not when he had more important things to do. Instead, he closed his eyes and prepared himself for whatever it was that he was about to face.

He turned around and inhaled sharply at the sight that lay before his eyes. His gaze roamed over what appeared to be thousands upon thousands of sleeping angels and demons spread out across the darkness, all of them doomed to the unwaking, desolate eternity that the Empty had forced upon them.

As his eyes began to search the unending spread of sleeping bodies, Dean had a sudden realization: there were millions, likely  _ billions  _ of creatures here in the Empty. How was Dean supposed to find Cas before the angel grace pulled him apart? The clock was already ticking, and Dean had to hurry.

“Cas!” Dean called out over the endless span of sleeping figures. Dean’s voice was met with only silence; there wasn’t even an echo. He turned in circles as he looked for any sign of life, but there were none to be found. His eyes widened and his breaths came quicker as he fought to keep his calm.

Ignoring the growing ache inside his chest, Dean began to search the Empty for a dark-haired, trenchcoat-clad, sleeping angel. 

“Castiel!” Dean shouted into the vast Nothing. “Cas, if you can hear me, say something!”

Nobody even stirred at his words. Dean was starting to doubt himself, to doubt his plan. He didn’t know how he was going to find Cas, and he didn’t know how he was supposed to leave the Empty alone, if it came to that. As he dwelled on the question for a moment longer, however, he realized with a heavy heart that there was only one answer: he couldn’t.

Dean was mere seconds away from losing his mind when finally, he saw it--saw  _ him _ .

He lied sprawled on the surface, facing away from Dean. His short hair was tousled in the exact same way, Dean realized, as it had been the last time they’d seen each other. His trench coat was dirty and wrinkled, though there were no traces of any of the blood that had coated his hands the last time they’d been together. And even though they were on the brink of non-existence, and despite all of the unsaid words that still hung between them, Dean took one look at that dirty, sleeping angel, and he smiled.

Dean couldn’t get there fast enough. His green eyes wide, he leapt over several sleeping forms before collapsing to his knees beside Cas’ body.

“Cas?” Dean asked, his voice an octave higher than usual. When Cas remained motionless, Dean turned him onto his back. His eyes were closed, lips slightly parted, and his face was peaceful. Asleep.

“Oh god, Cas,” Dean said, his voice breaking. He touched his fingers to the angel’s temple, tracing a gentle line down the side of his untroubled face. Then, taking him by the shoulders, Dean began to shake him in an attempt to wake him up.

“Come on, Cas. You gotta wake up,” Dean breathed, frantically patting Cas’ cheek. Dean gritted his teeth as he shook harder, fighting back against the range of emotions that made him choke on his words.  _ “Cas!” _

After a solid minute of trying, when Dean was sure it would take no less than a stampede to wake Cas from his slumber, Dean took a single, shaky breath to steady himself before rearing back his fist to hit Cas in the face.

And then it happened. Castiel turned his head, creasing his brows stubbornly as he fought back against wakefulness. Dean’s eyes went wide. 

“That’s right--wake up, dammit!” Dean muttered.

“No…” Cas groaned, pushing away from Dean. Placing his hands beneath his shoulders, he hauled Cas into a semi-sitting position.

“C’mon, sleeping beauty. I’m here to get you out. It’s time to go home.”

“Please…” Cas whispered, but Dean grabbed his head roughly between his hands and brought their faces so close that their noses nearly touched.

“Look at me, Cas. We gotta go. I’m not a vision, or a trick--I’m really here. You gotta wake up.”

Cas’ eyes opened into slits, and his pupils flared in recognition as he saw the gaze that bore intently into his own. “Dean?”

“Yeah,” Dean laughed in relief, blinking back tears. “Yeah, it’s me.”

Cas blinked, his eyes opening wider as he pulled himself out of his sleepy daze. “What--How--?”

“I’ll explain later,” Dean promised, smiling encouragingly into Cas’ disoriented stare, and hauled him onto his feet. “But first, we gotta go before… you know what, let’s just get outta here.” 

They began to move, but Dean stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed for the first time the tremendous, feathered wings that rose like shadows behind Castiel. Dean lost all sense of time and space as he gaped at the towering things that spread and extended from his back, each of them larger than the angel himself. They looked just like Dean always imagined an angel’s wings might look, all feathered and sumptuous, except Cas’ were… sleeker. And darker. And… undeniably, utterly striking. Dean’s eyes were wide with awe as his gaze slid from the angel’s wings to his eyes.

“You have--I didn’t...” Dean trailed off as he eyed the dark, glinting feathers with astonishment, but then closed his gaping mouth and shook his head. “Later,” he said to the both of them, and grabbed Cas by the arm again.

Dean began to run, pulling Cas behind him, before he realized that he had no idea where he was going. He slowed and then stopped to think, but then suddenly doubled over as a burning sensation seared through his chest. 

“What is it?” Cas asked anxiously, grabbing Dean’s arm. “Dean?” Dean looked up at Castiel through the pain, and noted the exhaustion in his face and the fogginess that still clouded his gaze. Dean might’ve been on the verge of being pulled apart, but Cas was still barely awake. They had to get out of there, and fast.

“It’s...It’ll be nothing. We need to find a way out of here--now,” Dean murmured.

“But--”

“I said  _ now,” _ Dean cut in urgently.

“How?” Cas asked, his blue eyes shuttering. They were gripping each other’s arms, but Dean was no longer sure who was holding up who. Ignoring the pain that flared in his chest, Dean squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and exhaled slowly. “Something about a tether.”

“A tether?” Cas asked hoarsely.

“Mhmm. My soul…” Dean said, trying to focus. What had Jack told him? It had something to do with his soul trying to escape the Empty.  _ Right!  _ Dean thought as the memory returned to him. Jack had explained that his soul would stretch into a line--a tether--that would guide him back to his body. And bring Cas back with him. Hopefully.

Snapping his eyes back open, Dean looked down at himself. He  _ was _ his soul, wasn’t he? He was himself, just without his body--stripped down to his spirit form. So how was he supposed to… become a tether? It didn’t make any sense. Cas was squinting into Dean’s face, clearly fighting tooth and nail to keep his eyes open. 

“Jack said that my soul would stretch into a line, or like a rope, or something, that’s supposed to show us the way home,” Dean explained as quickly as he could, gasping as a new wave of pain and nausea overtook him. Cas nodded and his grip on Dean’s arm tightened, but Dean could see it in his face that he hadn’t heard a single word he’d said.

Inhaling, Dean attempted to calm himself again. “Let’s just--” he began, but stopped abruptly when he heard a familiar voice.

_ Dean, _ the voice said softly. He knew that sound--he’d often dreamt about hearing that voice again. It belonged to his mother.

“Mom?” Dean called naively into the nothingness. 

“No, Dean,” Cas warned, grabbing Dean’s wrist. “That’s not Mary.”

_ Dean, honey. I’ve missed you so much,  _ it said in soothing tones. Dean turned on the spot to locate the source of the sound, but Cas halted him. 

“Dean, stop! It’s not her. It’s not your mother.”

Dean’s eyes were bewildered as they turned back on Cas, who had begun to sway in his effort to remain upright. “Who else could it be?” he demanded, gripping Castiel’s arms to steady him.

“It’s… the Empty,” Cas explained shortly, groaning as he regained his balance. “It doesn’t want us to leave.”

Dean waited for further explanation, but Cas shook his head. He was beginning to fade.

“We’ve gotta get out of here,” Dean said, but cried out as he bent double once more. The throbbing had developed into a steady burn that was similar, Dean realized, to the pain that he had felt when he died. Dean felt as though his insides were boiling, and the only way to make it stop was to clutch his chest like his heart was about to fall out. He worked to regain control of himself as the new wave of pain subsided, and focused on his breathing. 

Dean straightened himself with Cas’ meager help, but then did a double take as something snagged his attention. 

He turned his head back, and once more noticed a soft glint out of the corner of his vision. Lowering himself into a squat, he squinted his eyes to get a better view of whatever it was that had caught his attention. It took him a moment to get the angle just right, and once he did, it took him another few seconds to puzzle it out. But the moment he realized what he was seeing, Dean’s lips parted in awe.

It was small, and barely visible, but there it was: a thin, thread-like line of light, stretching from Dean’s middle to so far in the distance that Dean couldn’t see where the line ended. 

“What the hell?” Dean said softly, though he was more awestruck than anything. Momentarily forgetting that the line was literally a part of his own soul, Dean attempted to touch the tether, and frowned in disappointment when his hand went right through it. He moved his hand back and forth through the line, but no matter how many times he tried, he could not touch it.

“Weird,” Dean said, fascinated.

“Dean,” Cas said from behind him. Dean, snapping out of his daze, turned his face back up to Cas.

“Can you see this?” he asked, pointing to the tether.

“See what?”

Dean huffed. “I’ll take that as a no,” he mumbled, and his eyes tracked down the line. As if to remind him of his shortness on time, a fresh wave of pain seared in Dean’s chest. He stood back up, and, never taking his eyes off the line, focused on his breathing until the pain dulled again.

“Time to go,” Dean said, easing his arm under Castiel’s shoulder to support him as they began their journey in the direction of the tether.

_ Dean,  _ a new voice, his father’s voice, echoed from somewhere above him. Dean’s lip curled. 

“Shut up,” he snapped into the nothingness, and to his surprise, the nothingness obliged.

They started off hobbling together at a slow pace, but their footsteps gradually quickened as the burning inside Dean’s chest intensified. Sometimes Dean was dragging Cas, and sometimes Cas was supporting Dean. Tears welled in his eyes as Dean fought back against the screams that rose in his throat, and when the voices started back up again, it was all he could do to not collapse among the sleeping angels and demons that scattered the floor.

_ Come rest, Dean, _ Mary Winchester’s voice said in his ear.  _ Haven’t you suffered enough? _

“Get out...of my head!” Dean screamed back through clenched teeth, tightening his grip on Cas’ waist. He had to remember what was real. The tether was real.  _ Cas _ was real. And so was he.

_ It’s alright, son. You’re tired. You’ve done enough,  _ his father’s voice said.

_ Your battle is finished,  _ his mother whispered.

_ Dean!  _ A third voice said.  _ Dean, you’re almost there! Go towards the light! _

Dean recognized that voice, and it didn’t belong to any of his dead relatives. It was Jack’s voice, calling to him, beckoning him in the right direction.

“What?” Dean replied hoarsely.

_ The light! Go towards the light! _

“The light--?” Dean questioned, looking around. But Jack was right; straight ahead of them, so distant and faded that Dean almost missed it, was a softly glowing, yellow light that shone in the same direction that the tether was leading them in.

“The light!” Dean repeated, smiling in relief as he readjusted his hold on Cas’ arm before dragging the two of them forward again.

_ It’s not worth the struggle,  _ Mary murmured.  _ You’re just going to die anyway. _

They were so, so close. But Dean was not strong enough to carry the both of them.

When Dean finally collapsed, it was because of the pain, not the voices. Dean screamed and writhed on the floor, clutching both hands to his sternum. Cas had fallen too, and now lay in a motionless heap on the floor beside him. Dean screamed and screamed as the pain overtook his entire sense of being. He was no longer sure whether he’d gone blind, or whether his gaze had just gotten lost in some dark corner of the Empty. It didn’t really matter to him anymore.

When the pain began to dull, Dean couldn’t stop the tears from sliding down his cheeks. His father’s voice had been right: he was tired. So tired. All he wanted was for the pain to leave him, for the voices to leave him, and for the darkness to swallow him whole. Dean closed his eyes.

He didn’t hear Cas’ exhausted grunts as the angel regained his wobbly footing, though he was vaguely aware of it when Cas put an arm behind Dean’s back and eased the other under his knees. Castiel was too focused on keeping the two of them moving forward to say anything, but even if he did, Dean likely wouldn’t have heard it. Cas panted as he made his way toward the dim glow that seemed both just close enough and too far away, carrying Dean in his arms. 

Although Cas hadn’t seen the tether before, it was hard to miss it now. As they drew closer to the light, the line grew brighter and brighter until it was almost too intense to look at. Turning his eyes back to the light, which was only a couple paces away now, Cas quickened his steps. Dean groaned softly and mumbled something unintelligible, and then opened his eyes just a fraction.

“Cas?” he said softly.

“We’re gonna be alright, Dean,” Cas assured him, readjusting his grip on Dean’s back. “I’m going to finish this for us.”

“Cas…” Dean repeated, and his eyes slid shut once more. Castiel broke into a labored run.

They were a mere fifteen feet away when the surface beneath Cas’ feet began to shift. At first he was just running, and then he was sliding downhill, and then the floor vanished from below their feet, and they were falling, falling, falling. 

Cas grabbed Dean to chest as they free fell, and Dean buried his face in Cas’ shoulder. Their limbs entwined as they pulled each other closer, leaving not an inch of space between them. Cas wrapped his wings protectively around Dean, and they gripped each other as tightly as they possibly could as they plunged to what they were both sure was certain death. And as they tore through the open air, wind ripping through their hair, they were both thinking the same thing: that if this really was the end, then at least they were reunited once more.

And so the two of them plummeted deeper into the unknown, bodies pressed fiercely against each other, feeling nothing but content in the fact that they were together, and grateful that they had found their way back to one another one final time.

They felt nothing but each other as the light swallowed them whole.

__________

Returning to his body, Dean thought, was a lot like being slammed into the ground by a sumo wrestler. 

“Dean!” A familiar voice said.

Dean opened his eyes groggily to find Sam’s anxious face hovering above his own.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean croaked. Sam let out a heavy sigh and sat back on his heels, but they weren’t alone.

“So, how was the trip?” Gabriel asked nonchalantly, peering down at Dean over Sam’s shoulder.

“Super,” Dean said, rubbing his head. But as his memories came flooding back to him like some strange dream, all the sleepiness left him. His back straightened like a board as a soft, blue glow overfell the dungeon, and Dean spun around.

Dean’s first thought was that he looked like a freshly charged battery. His eyes beamed like beacons, and his entire body glowed brighter than Dean had ever seen before. Behind him, the shadow of two, great wings fell across the wall. The radiance lasted for another moment before finally pulsing and fading, and then it was just Cas.

The moment his eyes met Dean’s, Dean’s face crumpled. He fought to make it look like they were happy tears pouring out of his eyes, but he couldn’t help it. All of the pain, exhaustion, and distress finally caught up to him, and he didn’t fight it when Castiel fell to his knees before him and gathered Dean into his arms.

He vaguely heard Eileen telling the others that they needed a moment, and only half-listened to their footsteps as the four of them filed out of the dungeon. Dean wept quietly while Cas held him against his chest and traced gentle circles on his back.

“We’re okay, Dean. We made it,” Cas said softly, and Dean withdrew and wiped his eyes on his shirt.

Once his vision was clear enough to see again, he was shocked by the tenderness and emotion in Cas’ face.

“You came for me,” Cas said, his voice trembling. “You shouldn’t have, but you did.”

“Of course I did,” Dean said gruffly, fighting to regain his tough composure, but his sniffling betrayed his efforts.

“Dean,” Cas murmured, smiling softly. “Thank you.”

Dean melted, and his shoulders slumped. “I thought--I thought you were gone. Like actually, really gone this time.”

Cas chuckled, and this time, there were tears in his eyes, too. “I’m here now. Because of you.” Cas picked up Dean’s hand between his own two, and stared intensely at the back of their fingers.

“Dean… About what I said, before I died--”

“Wait, Cas--” Dean cut him off, but Cas raised his voice and spoke over him.

“We can just forget about that--I get it. I understand if you don’t want that,” Cas said, looking everywhere but at Dean’s face. “If you don’t want… me.” 

There was an overbearing silence, and for a brief moment, Cas wished he was still back in the Empty. But even as he thought formed in his mind, he knew it wasn’t really true. Whatever Dean could offer him would be enough. Cas knew that now.

Dean swallowed, and dipped his head to meet Cas’ lowered gaze. His eyes were intent. Brave. And full of something that Cas had never seen in them before.

“And if I do?” Dean asked, his face breaking into a shy smile. Cas’ lips parted in disbelief as his brain worked to comprehend what Dean was saying.

“You--You do?” Cas stammered, clearly taken aback. 

Dean smirked. “Why else would I visit the Empty?” he said. “Besides its great vacation spots, I mean.”

Cas snorted, then blushed and averted his eyes.

“Hey,” Dean said, his face softening again as he touched Cas’ chin and forced him to meet his eyes. “I know things will be different now for us, and we’ll figure it out. But you and me, Cas? We’re supposed to be together. No matter what. Or where.” 

Neither of them were sure who moved first, but a second later their eyes were closed and their foreheads pressed together. 

“I would’ve gladly died in the Empty with you,” Cas whispered, and Dean, unable to wait a second longer, pressed his lips to Cas’. Cas had only been kissed a couple times during his lengthy existence, and even though Dean’s cheeks were wet as they pressed against his, and they were both trembling hard as they held each other, Cas was already sure that it was the best kiss ever.

Dean’s lips were soft and curious, and Cas decided that he wouldn’t mind if he spent the rest of his life with Dean’s mouth on his. When they finally broke apart, Dean grabbed his collar to keep him close for a moment longer.

“Cas, I…” Dean began, and then paused, as if gathering his thoughts.

“What is it?” Cas asked worriedly, attempting to pull away and read Dean’s face.

“No, no, nothing bad. I promise. I was just thinking…” Dean’s eyes were still closed, but Cas’ were wide open as he waited for whatever dreadful thing was about to come out of Dean’s mouth.

“When you weren’t here, all I could think about was the last thing you said to me. And I beat myself to hell because I couldn’t stop thinking about how you were gone before I could say anything back. I mean, I didn’t even know what you said to me, and then you were gone. And I…”

Cas held his breath.

“You gotta know that I love you. I always have. Maybe it was different at first, but I really do need you, and you gave everything for me. I--I love you. And--”

Cas crushed his mouth against Dean’s again, and this time there wasn’t any tentativeness or caution. When they broke apart, Cas was dimly aware of Eileen discreetly passing Sam a wad of cash. 

Dean kept his hand on Cas’ back as they stood and walked into the hallway, both of them uncomfortably conscious that they had an audience. Gabriel, consistent with his usual temperament, dove straight to the point.

“Well, it was about damn time,” he chirped, following a grinning Jack back to the kitchen. Sam placed his hand on Eileen’s shoulder as the two of them moved to follow. “I told you so,” Sam muttered down to her as they walked off. Dean raised incredulous brows at his younger brother’s back, but Cas was just confused. 

They turned their eyes back to each other.

“Ready?” Dean asked, his mouth hinting at a smile.

Cas frowned. “For what?”

Dean’s eyes were bright as his smile developed into a full-blown grin. “How does a road trip sound?”

__________

The next few hours of the day went by fairly slowly, but the mood in the bunker sobered as the sun began to set. After Dean gave back the grace, Gabriel reminded Jack of their deal and gave all five of them one final salute before snapping his fingers and vanishing into thin air. Jack was quick to follow, leaving quickly after waving in farewell. Once it was just the four of them again, Sam and Eileen immediately went over to the dining table where Sam had a couple of different laptops open, and occupied themselves with the screens.

Dean was a little surprised that Sam hadn’t yet demanded why he’d gone and gotten himself killed again. He must’ve known, he realized, how important it was to him to get Cas back. Either someone told him, or he figured it out. It didn’t matter. Dean was just grateful.

As for him and Cas, he figured they’d hit the road. Escape for a little while. Cas packed some things for them while Dean stood over a map, trying to decide where they’d head to next.

“How does the beach sound?” Dean asked, eyeing the coast. Cas looked up and creased his eyebrows.

“What would we do that for?” he asked quizzically. Dean had to work to keep from rolling his eyes.

“For fun, Cas. People go to the beach to have fun, relax. A little R&R.” 

Cas still looked confused, but Dean gave up. “Just trust me, alright? I think you’ll like swimming.”

“Angels don’t swim.”

Dean snorted. “Angels also don’t get resurrected from the dead. You’ll like it. Promise.” Dean smiled as he turned around, and Cas grinned back. “Okay.”

“Oh,” Dean said as an idea came to him. “We should ask Sam and Eileen if they wanna come. That would be fun, eh? The whole team finally enjoying some ‘us’ time?” Dean smiled, and then pointed at the bag Cas was finishing with. “Zip that up and meet me at the front. I’ll go ask them.”

Dean was so excited he ran to go find Sam. But when he found him sitting down at the table, Dean halted, and frowned at the tangle of wires and monitors set up on the surface.

“What’s all this junk?” he asked, motioning to the setup. Sam gave his big brother a half smile. 

“Just some extra stuff I got to help with research in this place. Eileen and I spent the past week or so setting up our own electronic database for the bunker, you know, to make it easier to access and locate--”

“Sounds great, Sammy,” Dean cut in, eyeing the wires warily. “Cas and I were wondering if--we’re hitting the road. Heading west, I think, to the coast.” Dean said, and Sam smiled.

“Dean, that sounds awesome,” Sam said sincerely, clapping Dean on the shoulder, but Dean shook his head.

“No, I’m not telling you because--” he began, but Sam was still wearing that stupid, knowing smile.

“You should come with us,” Dean said, and then glanced over to where Eileen stood, a couple paces away, flipping through some dusty old tome. “You and Eileen.”

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He exhaled, and, folding his arms across his chest, began to speak.

“You know I’d love to, Dean,” Sam said, smiling apologetically at his brother. “I meant to tell you this earlier, but with everything going on… Eileen and I, we have a plan.”

“A plan?” Dean asked carefully.

Sam nodded. “I already told you that I wanted to quit hunting, and Eileen’s on the same page. But I think we’d both go stir-crazy if we just completely stopped helping people, you know? And so we did a lot of talking, and a lot of thinking--”

“Get to the point.”

“Well, that’s why I built this whole setup here. We thought that if we weren’t actually out there helping people, we could do something from inside here. Like, for example, research for other hunters, and making phone calls for them, kind of like--”

“Like what Bobby did,” Dean said, finally understanding. “You want to be the new Bobby?”

Sam smiled. “No one can replace Bobby. But yeah, I was thinking of taking up something like what he did. And maybe using the bunker as sort of a home base for hunters, you know?”

Dean was quiet for a moment while he thought it over. “That’s a hell of an idea,” Dean said finally, nodding. He met Sam’s eyes. “You sure you wanna stay in the business?”

Sam grinned. “Research has always been my strong suit. And I still want to help people, just not by risking all of our necks every other day.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, I’m with you on that.” They fell quiet for a minute, and Sam chewed his lip nervously as he waited for a reaction from Dean.

“...Well?” Sam prompted.

“Well, what?” Dean asked, giving his brother a proud smile. “I think it's a great idea. You’re right, research has always been more your thing. Plus, it’ll give you and Eileen a little more time to--” Dean made a vulgar motion with his hands, and Sam grimaced.

“Not exactly the first thing on my mind,” Sam said with a frown. Dean snorted, and slapped Sam on the shoulder.

“I’m proud of you, you know that?” he said, and Sam ducked his head to hide the emotion in his eyes. 

“Sorry I’m not going on the road trip with you,” Sam said, feeling guilty.

“Hey,” Dean said, looking Sam intently in the eyes. “None of that.” 

Sam wrapped Dean in a tight hug, and they clapped each other on the back before pulling apart. Dean patted Sam on the cheek as Cas strode into the room, duffel in hand.

“All set?” Dean said, turning to Cas. Cas nodded, and Dean snatched his keys off the table before the four of them mounted the stairs and walked out into sunset. They exchanged a brief goodbyes, a couple of quick hugs, and then Dean and Cas slid into the Impala.

“It’s not forever, remember?” Dean said out the window to Sam, who looked close to tears. Refusing to meet Dean’s eyes, he nodded to the clearing off to the left.

“Sammy,” Dean said, and his brother forced himself to meet his eyes. “I'll be back in a few weeks, alright? Just a little trip.”

Sam nodded, and Dean jammed the keys into the ignition before turning up the radio to full volume.

“We’ll be back before the leaves hit the ground. Be good. Don’t touch my tapes. Or my keg!” Dean shouted out the window as they pulled away. Cas stuck his hand out the window to wave goodbye, and Sam and Eileen both waved back as their two figures began shrinking into the distance.

“I’m going to miss them,” Cas sighed, after turning back around to face the windshield again.

“Yeah, me too,” Dean admitted, “but I think this’ll be good for everyone. We deserve this,” Dean said, smiling over at Cas.

“You really  _ do  _ deserve this,” Cas said, raising his eyebrows meaningfully at Dean.

“And you don’t?” Dean asked seriously. “I’m not the one who just spent the past three weeks pushing up daisies.”

“No, but we were  _ both  _ dead three hours ago.”

“Alright, I’ll give you that,” Dean conceded, and placed a hand on Cas’ knee as they both fell quiet for a moment.

“Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Do you actually think that I’ll like swimming, or were you just saying that?”

Dean chuckled. “I actually think that you’ll like it,” he said, shifting his hand over the steering wheel. “You just gotta trust me, alright?”

“I always trust you,” Cas said, smiling as he cranked up the volume on the radio.

And Dean, finally content in who he was, his place behind the wheel, and the road ahead, smiled too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading!! I hope that this gave you the closure that you needed and helped you to say goodbye to these beloved characters. Sorry part 3 took so long to get out there--I wanted to make sure I did the best I could. Hopefully it was as thrilling for you to read as it was for me to write. Thanks for reading and sending love to the whole #spnfamily :))  
>  -Meg


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